Bunny Rabbit
by lilien passe
Summary: A somewhat dark, simple GerIta drabble I wrote for a friend. Feliciano attempts to teach Ludwig a bit of compassion.


_Bunny Rabbit_

Author's Notes:

This is a quick drabble fic for my friend who adores GerIta. I've never written Feliciano before. It shows. This is hardly a serious piece so please keep your bellyaching to yourselves. Thank you.

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><p>"There's an unmoving bunny outside my tent."<p>

Ludwig lifted his head from his cot and stared at the thin sliver of light that outlined the canvas door. His eyes were dry and his ribs were still cracked. Blinking hurt. As did breathing. Beating his heart. Basic life functions were a chore. His voice was just as labored when he responded.

"An unmoving bunny."

Feliciano leaned against Ludwig's tent, resting his shoulder against the man's cot. It creaked alarmingly even under his slight weight. Everything was rusted. It wasn't surprising. He glanced up at the moon, worrying at his chapped lips.

"Yes. And it has a missing eye. Do we have any spare eyes? It needs a fair bit of patching up."

Ludwig ran a hand through his hair, wincing as his fingers pulled away rough strands. Like straw they gathered in his fingers and scratched at his skin.

"You woke me up before my shift because there's a dead rabbit outside your tent?"

Ludwig could practically hear Feliciano's surprise. The canvas moved and the dust outside his tent stirred up little eddies. The shadow on the wall shrank away and grew still.

"…Dead?"

"If it's not moving and it's got an eye out, then yes. It's dead."

There was silence outside before Feliciano's voice sounded again.

"You're not a veterinarian. I think it's a bit mean of you to call something dead when you haven't even examined i-"

"For God's sake, it's _dead_. It's dead and it's a rabbit. Get back to sleep."

Ludwig lay back down, wincing as his ribs protested the movement. He didn't want this cot. Stupid, stupid cot. It couldn't take his weight and it buckled in the middle.

He closed his eyes again as the canvas rustled and empty canteens clattered to the ground.

"I've never seen a dead rabbit with its skin still so pretty."

Ludwig's finger twitched as he fought the urge to move. Pretty. He opened his good eye and turned to face Feliciano.

"You never went hunting?"

The shadow in his tent shook its head.

"I did. But the dogs would bring it back for us and then the cooks would take it and we'd have a nice meal with everything ugly and chopped up. The dogs were my brother's and he would guard what we shot. I stayed on my horse."

Ludwig let out a snort and closed his eye. "So you've never seen a dead animal that's not been skinned and plucked."

The shadow shook its head again.

"Brother would put his hand over my eyes when we passed them on the road. Grandpa would scold him and tell him to let me look because it was beautiful. But brother would cry and I would squeeze my eyes tight so I wouldn't see and make him sadder."

Quite a different experience than his own growing up. Ludwig distinctly remembered being shoved into the woods with a knife and told to kill whatever moved. His brother's sadistic idea of hunting. Ludwig was still for a long time before he slowly sat up and rested his feet on the ground.

"Alright. Let's go see this rabbit."

Feliciano nodded and dragged himself out of the tent, favoring his injured knee. Ludwig followed, ducking his head as he pushed the canvas aside. Camp was completely still, the tents in neat rows and the fire's embers extinguished. Feliciano quietly weaved his way through the tents, his steps unusually careful. Nighttime tended to subdue the man. It made his dark eyes wide and his shoulders tense, and even when he would sneak uninvited into the soldiers' tents for comfort, he remained restrained, whining and whispering in soft voices. The others called it night sickness. Ludwig called it childish cowardice.

Feliciano stopped in front of his tent and crouched down, balancing on his heels. He pointed to a small, white lump half buried in the dirt.

Ludwig knelt beside the Italian, his blue eyes narrowed as he struggled to see. It was indeed a rabbit. A young one if its fine fur was anything to go by. Its one, red eye stared up blankly at the sky.

Ludwig blinked.

"…It's dead."

He pushed a bit of dirt over the thing – it was too scrawny to eat. He stilled his hand as Feliciano made a quiet sound and pushed the earth back with his thin fingers.

"I want to see."

Ludwig sighed.

"Vargas, it's just a dead rabbit. I could take you to see a hundred of them tomorrow-"

"I want to see it!"

Ludwig backed off at the childish shout, sitting on his haunches as he watched the Italian carefully brush away every grain of soil. The man's brown eyes were wide, his pupils swallowing up almost any color as he leaned in closer to work.

Finally the rabbit was free. Feliciano ran his hand over one slender paw, pressing his fingertips against the soft pads. Ludwig let out a quiet, disgusted snort.

"Don't touch it. It's probably covered in fleas."

Feliciano dismissively waved his hand towards the German, making a soft noise in the back of his throat. He pressed his hand against the rabbit's stomach, its back, its velvet ears.

Ludwig shifted uncomfortably as he muttered, "If you get the plague, I'm shipping you back. I don't need illness-ridden soldiers-"

"Hush, please."

Ludwig blinked in surprise. It was the first time Feliciano had ever told _him_ to be silent. Ludwig pursed his lips in a sullen expression and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't like losing control.

Feliciano finally pulled his hand back, the tips of his fingers twitching. He turned his head and stared fixedly at Ludwig.

"Grandpa lied."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow in question. His ribs hurt. He needed sleep. And fewer dead rabbits.

"Lots of parents lie to their kids. Or so I'm told."

Feliciano shook his head and stared at the rabbit again.

"Grandpa lied. It isn't pretty."

He suddenly stood and pushed a mound of dirt over the rabbit with his foot, turning his face away and squeezing his eyes shut as he worked.

Ludwig let out a frustrated sigh and moved forward to bat Feliciano's foot away. "Stop. You're going to rip it apart." He set about burying the rabbit, making sure it was far enough under the ground to not draw any predators. The burial taken care of, he stood and wiped his hands on his already dirty pants before turning to Feliciano to ask him a question.

The look on the man's face stopped his tongue.

Feliciano stared at the small mound in the dirt, his fingers slowly clenching and unclenching.

"…Vargas?"

Ludwig took a cautious step towards the man, his feet moving in an awkward shuffle. He cleared his throat and glanced around the camp. Still empty. He carefully rested his hand on the Italian's shoulder, ready to bolt at any second should the camp stir to life.

He licked his dry lips.

"It's-… it's just a damn rabbit, Vargas. You don't need to get so-"

"It's not." Feliciano turned his head to look up at Ludwig, his eyes dark and sad. "It's not just a rabbit. It's fur and eyes and little paws and a nose that moves when it runs. That's how you'd paint it. With its eyes half closed and its whiskers twitching as it ate grass."

Ludwig held back his barbs. You couldn't draw whiskers twitching.

"…But all those things still just make a _rabbit_. It's an animal. It's stupid and soulless and to be honest, only really useful in a starvation scenario."

Feliciano shook his head and carefully grabbed Ludwig's hand, a little smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes.

"It's okay. You can't see it in your head like I can. I shouldn't expect so much from you."

Ludwig frowned a bit at that, his foot brushing against the lump in the dirt. Feliciano gave his left cheek a sympathetic kiss and then released Ludwig's hand with a quiet, "Buona Notte, Ludwig."

Ludwig watched the man slip back into his own tent. It took him a minute to find his feet again. He found two twigs and a bit of dry grass next to the fire, tied them together, and left the little cross at the foot of the grave.

"Gute Nacht," he mumbled, feeling stupid for talking to a dead rabbit. He returned to his tent and lay down, closing his eyes as he tried to remember how a rabbit moved. How its long legs stretched out, how its plump body grew thin as it ran.

But all Ludwig could see was a dead rabbit, one eye missing, fleas crawling across its fur.

He pitied Vargas.


End file.
